Chapter 7

Malcolm bade Corvus sit down and offered him a drink. Corvus sat, but made a sharp wave at the offer. "Tell me what's happened to Regula Vitellius."

Malcolm stood in front of Corvus, took a deep breath and asked, "How well did you know her father, Labeo?"

"I never met the man," said Corvus. For a moment, hope rose in this chest that whatever misfortune had happened was limited to Regula's father. "Is he unwell."

"He's dead," said Malcolm bluntly. His next words came out in a rush like he'd been holding them back, but some dam had burst. "The senate judicial held a special session last night to hear charges that he had been stealing from the senate at large. He was found guilty and executed."

Corvus rubbed his eyes and tried to make sense of the words. "All in one night? Does that really happen?"

"In cases where the senate judicial is in agreement that the evidence is overwhelming and the charges are severe enough that widespread knowledge of the crime could corrupt the faith of the people in the Empire, they can act with extraordinary powers," said Malcolm. "I know only what I've been told, but my understanding is that, for such a large sum as he'd stolen, the charge was treason."

"Treason?" Corvus raised his head, thinking it was a funny word, one that belonged in history, not the present. "Regular and her mother must be devastated."

"They're more than devastated," said Malcolm. "As a traitor's get, I'm afraid your friend has been stripped of citizenship. She, her sister, and her mother are all to be sold along with Labeo Vitellius's estate."

"As ... slaves?" Corvus thought he must be wrong, but he couldn't think of any other explanation.

Marcus let slip a small, nervous smile. "Yes, sir."

Corvus shook his head in denial. "There has to be something we can do to help them."

"For a traitor's family?" Marcus took a deep breath and clapped his hands together. "Sir, your father might be able to get the order reversed by a special senatorial decree if he called in every favor he had..." He let the words trail off.

"But why would he?" Corvus filled in. He took a deep breath and tried to think. There was too much information to process here. Why would he even ask his father to do such a thing? What was he to Regula or Regula to him? She'd been nice enough to him when they'd spoken, but he wasn't even sure she liked him as a person.

She was pretty, maybe even beautiful. But Corvus was surrounded by beautiful women. He could buy or hire more beautiful women. He should just let this go. With his political career on the rise, the last thing he needed was to get involved with a traitor's family. It made no sense.

He looked at Malcolm, who watched him like a rabbit might watch a rattlesnake just out of striking range. "How much?"

Marcus gave a concerned frown, managing to convey with his eyes that he was afraid Corvus might have just lost his mind. "How much ... what, sir?"

"How much is the household being sold for?" Corvus asked. "How much to buy all of it?"

"That ... would be determined at auction, sir," said Corvus. "It might be eighty thousand denarii or a half million. I can..."

"Call my solicitor, Marcus." Corvus rose from the couch. "I need to have..."

"Sir, if I may..." Marcus interrupted him. "The house is in your congressional district."

"So?"

"So, your father has been looking to buy you a house there ... as a gift upon your elevation," Marcus reminded him. "If you were to express an interest in this house, he could almost certainly speak to some friends in the judicial ministry about forgoing the auction and arranging a private sale to him directly."

"What ... would that accomplish?" Even as he asked it, Corvus realized he should know the answer. It was exactly the sort of question his mother would use to test his political acumen.

"It ... might save everyone involved a great deal of embarrassment," said Malcolm. "If it goes to public auction, the press will undoubtedly hear of Labeo Vitellius's treason. If the sale is private and to your father rather than you, your connection to Regula Vitellius might never come out ... or be remarked upon as more than a coincidence. Further, it might spare your friend some unpleasant ... vetting."

"Vetting?" Corvus really felt like he was two steps behind the whole conversation.

"A dishonest practice, but one that does occur." Malcolm looked aggrieved. "Sometimes, when a slave comes on the market, men will lay a deposit as if they were going to bid and then pay a fee to the holder to ... try out that slave. I'm told this is very common with slaves held by the treasury as it can be quite lucrative to the officials."

Corvus felt sick to his stomach. "You ... think that might happen to Regula?"

Malcolm closed his eyes and nodded. "If men suspect she's a maiden, interest can be quite fierce. Certainly, they would be interested in Merula."

Corvus frowned and shook his head. "Who?"

"Regula's sister," said Malcolm. "I understand she just turned fourteen."

Corvus paced. "Can we prevent that?"

Malcolm nodded. "I think so. We can buy an option on the household first thing in the morning if one of the general's friends will issue it. That will keep anyone else from placing a deposit for ... thirty or sixty days, I think."

The young patrician shook his head. "What can we do now?"

"At ... three thirty in the morning?" Malcolm frowned. "I don't know. But, no one else can do anything until the market opens either. They should be..."

Corvus had a clear vision of a faceless man creeping into Regula's rooms and shook his head violently. "We can't trust some corrupt treasury official not to decide he'd like to vet her himself before the bidding starts."

Malcolm paled. "I ... hadn't thought of that. I can ... send a runner to the house of the treasury minister's subaltern. I've forgotten the man's name, but he was a close friend of your father's once. If I send a message in your father's name that you're interested in the household and want it untouched and pristine, he would almost certainly see to it personally that it was so."

"Do it," said Corvus. He watched as Malcolm went to a phone, dialled and asked for a messenger to be sent to the house, then collapsed back into the chair. "Thank you, Malcolm. You've done a great service tonight."

Malcolm bowed. "Service is life, sir."

"I ... might like that drink now," Having done what he could, he was starting to shake a little.

"Yes, sir," said Malcolm. "Shall I serve you here or call up to your rooms to have Clover or Rose serve?"

Corvus's eyes widened. "Clover and Rose. Shit! I completely forgot about them."

Malcolm gave the faintest of shrugs. "They are slaves, sir. They await your pleasure ... not the other way around."

Corvus considered the man. He had a point even if the young man's own instincts told him that men waited on women's pleasure regardless of class. "Of course. I'll head up there straightaway."

Corvus's hands were shaking more violently when he reached his rooms. With no further action to take until morning, the adrenaline coursing through his system had nowhere to go and rich, dark wine sloshed over the edges of his cup when Clover handed it to him.

Without comment, his body-slave held his wrist in one steady hand and helped him raise the cup to his lips so he could take a drink, then led him into his bedroom and sat him on a divan there. Kneeling beside him, she asked quietly, "How may I serve?"

Corvus's attention was drawn to movement from his bed. A head of long, fair hair and a bare shoulder emerged from under the sheets. He turned and looked at Clover, seeing for the first time how her hair had been only hastily brushed and she wore only the simplest shift. "Were you ... called to serve elsewhere tonight?"

Clover lowered her head, shaking it, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks. "No, sir. Rose and I have been here alone all night."

Rose went up on one elbow, the long, voluptuous curve of her breast appearing from beneath the sheet. Her hair hadn't been brushed at all and was artfully tangled around her head in a corona of carnality. The sight short-circuited Corvus's confused, meandering thoughts, leaving no doubt as to what had happened while he was away. In a different mindset, the sight would have been arousing, proof that his slaves' enthusiasm extended beyond mere obedience. Tonight, it just made him even more tired.

Rose locked eyes with him, something most slaves would never do. "How may we serve, Corvus?"

Corvus laughed at the incongruity of the moment in the midst of a world so suddenly dark and sinister. It was like holding a wedding on the slopes of Pompeii with cinders in your hair. He gestured at Rose. "You can go back to your own beds ... or you can both go to Clover's bed if you like. I am ... absolutely exhausted tonight."

Rose managed to slide out of the bed, cross the floor between them, and go down on her knees at Corvus's side in one smooth motion, never rising entirely to her feet. She looked up at her master, eyes wide, took his free hand by the wrist in both of hers and laid it against her cheek. "Have we done something to displease you?" Deep concern and maybe a bit of fear showed in her eyes.

Corvus shook his head. "No, Rose. I've just ... seen too much ugliness in the world today. I want to sleep."

Rose glanced down and her fingers found the top button of his shirt, unbuttoning it. "Of course." Her voice was smooth again. "It is an ugly world."

Corvus closed his eyes, nodded, and let her unbutton his shirt. As she leaned in, he caught a scent of some sweet-smelling perfume mixed with sweat and sex. He drew in a deeper breath and let it fill his lungs, some of the tension going out of his shoulders. His eyes opened and he took in the sight of her. "You're a very beautiful woman, Rose."